Vagabond sat in silence. His eyes glowed purple in the light of the everbright lantern. While his recent companions slept the Warforged sat, his body of mithral and wood creaked slightly as he crafted a statue out of the scrap mental he carried. As he created the piece of art Vagabond let his memory come to the front of his always active mind. Years ago as Vagabond was wandering the wilderness of his former home of Cyre, an old man came to him and showed him the entire world had not been reduced to what is now known as the Mournlands. The man escorted the warforged through the cold mist and into a land of green. Two years past as the two of them traveled to distant lands and forgotten places. All the time the old man taught the Warforged about freedom of the road, how everything changes and how to adapt to these changes. The old man re-named the warforged to Vagabond and expressed how he had never had a follower that never rests. The old man reveled himself as the last remaining god to walk on Eberron. Vagabond, with no other direction after the war, embraced the idea of a god and dedicated his life to the folks that travel.
A twig snapped and Vagabond's mind raced to the current situation. The sun was rising and the book reading gnome he healed days before walked up to him. "oh my, did you create that?"
Vagabond looked down to see his finished work, a perfect replica of one of those airships that can travel faster than anything he knows about. "yes, I did"
With that Vagabond snapped the metal ship into half and then half again while whispering words of pray and then placed the bits into his bag for the next night. The gnomes eyes shot open. "My word son! That would have feteched a fortune in the markets of Wroat. Why destory such beauty?"
"Change. It is the way of my god. The way of the Traveler."
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